When I was a kid I loved the dentist's office. I would go, they would 'tickle' my teeth, I got to pick a toy out of a treasure box, I got to pick from a billion different flavors of fluoride (I was never brave enough to try the cookie dough flavor. Too weird). Then I would get a brand new toothbrush and new bubblegum toothpaste in a cool bag and they would all tell me how cute and grown up I was. Bliss.
I have since joined the millions who suffer from dentist distaste.
With each month that follows a dental appointment my memory of its displeasure fades. The days that precede the following appointment [6 months later] conjure thoughts like it's not really that bad or I'll just go and leave and it will be fine.
Wrong.
Sitting there in the chair, forced to revert back to infancy with a glorified bib, completely unable to talk or act for myself, being pinched and prodded and trying to pretend like it didn't hurt when she stabbed my lip w/ the tartar scraper and made it bleed a little I remember no, yeah, it really is that bad.
It really, really is.
2 comments:
hmmmmm; I think we need to find you a new hygenist. However that dentist office on your post is AWESOME!
dentist are the most effective form of institutionalized torture!
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